


Introductions

by afteriwake



Series: A Little Holmes [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an eventful day, filled with people of all types: a hurt Molly, a smiling Donovan, a grumpy Lestrade and at least one woman who felt cheeky enough to slip John her phone number to give to Sherlock. And this was just upon their first encounters with Abigail Holmes…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> I just kind of wanted this idea of hurt, heartbroken Molly, and it spiraled out from there…

It was perhaps three weeks after Abigail’s arrival that Lestrade had a case for him that involved a visit to Molly Hooper. Lestrade had given him a cryptic warning that he shouldn’t be his arrogant self when dealing with her. He was insulted, of course, and wondered why on earth he would give that warning. This was _Molly_ he was talking about.

He made his way to the morgue and saw her there. “Hello,” he said.

She turned, and glared at him. “It’s you,” she spat out. 

He blinked slightly. She seemed angry, antagonistic. What on earth had come over her? “Are you all right?”

“Me? Yes, I’m perfectly fine,” she said. “What do you want? Make it quick, I’m busy.”

“I need to view the body from Lestrade’s newest case.”

“Third drawer from the door, in the center,” she said, turning away from him.

This was puzzling behaviour. He admitted he had only figured out she was infatuated with him at the Christmas party, but this behavior was very unlike her in any regards. “Have I done something wrong?” he asked.

He could see her shut her eyes. “The woman. The one you came in and said was dead. She wasn’t, was she?”

“No,” he said. “I said it was her to help her fake her death.”

“How would you have known it was her with her face all bashed in?”

“I’ve seen her naked,” he said, not understanding the point of these questions.

“Oh, I bet you did,” she said quietly.

Then it clicked. “Are you jealous because she’s the mother of my daughter?” he asked quietly.

He could see her shake slightly. She was tense and irritated, and he could tell from looking at her that she was about ready to let off a stream of anger, directed solely at him. And then it just seemed to cave in, and she hung her head. “Yes,” she mumbled.

He was surprised by the admission, by the fact she even got jealous. “It was one night, one time. It wasn’t important,” he said, not sure why he was telling her. “It was something I needed, something I don’t get very often. One night, that’s all.”

“What’s she got that I don’t?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re a better woman than her,” he said, and he meant it. She lifted her head up and looked at him, surprised. “She took money from my brother to deliver our child to me and forget she ever had her. But you…you’d have told him to go to hell. You’d have fought to keep your child. She may send things occasionally, and consider that being part of her life, but that wouldn’t be enough for you. You’d want to watch her grow. You’d want to be there for the important moments. And you would have turned him down even if it meant your life was constantly in danger. You are a better woman than her, Molly.”

“Did you love her?” she asked.

He shook his head. “She intrigued me. But no, I did not love her.”

She looked at him. “God, I feel so stupid, getting jealous. It’s not like you like me that way. I don’t even know if you’d consider me a friend.”

“I know I say I don’t have friends, so I don’t know if I consider you a friend, but I do appreciate you. I’ll be better at showing you in the future.”

She looked away from him. He could tell she was blushing. “Thank you.” He remained silent while he waited for her to compose herself. Then she looked at him again. “Do you have a picture of your daughter?” 

He shook his head. “I hadn’t thought to take one.”

“Is she pretty?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?”

“I…umm….sure,” she said with a nod. “Yes, I’d love to see her.”

“Have you taken your lunch yet?”

She shook her head. “Not yet.”

“After I look at the body, I’ll take you to meet her. John is watching her at a coffee shop near here. I was going to meet up with them when I was done.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. She went to the drawer she had told him and pulled the body out. “There’s your victim.”

He examined the victim for several minutes, and then had Molly roll her over so he could see her back. Satisfied with the examination and the details Molly gave him from the autopsy, he nodded for her to put the body back. She did, and then he looked at her. “It’s chilly out, and a bit of a walk. You might want a jacket.”

“Right,” she said. “Give me a moment.” She went into her office, and when she came back out she was wearing a jacket and not her lab coat. They walked out of the morgue and out of the hospital entrance. They didn’t speak much, though Molly had questions, and he answered them. It took them ten minutes to get there, and John was by the window. “Hello, John,” she said with a smile.

“Hello, Molly,” he said. “Sherlock brought you to meet her?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“She’s sleeping, but she’s in the car seat.” He got up and motioned for her to come over. “Here,” he said.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Molly said quietly. Then she turned to Sherlock. “May I hold her?”

He nodded. “Yes.” She carefully lifted her out of the seat, then sat where John had sat. Sherlock watched as Abigail woke up, and Molly put a finger out near her hand. Abigail wrapped her fingers around the offered finger. “She’s got quite a grip,” she said with a chuckle. Then she turned to Sherlock. “You’re right. If this was my daughter I wouldn’t give her up, not for any amount of money.”

He smiled slightly at her as she turned her attention back to Abigail, talking softly to her. Abigail seemed to like her, as she wasn’t crying at the sight of a stranger looking at her. He watched them and realized that Molly would most likely make an excellent mother one day. She seemed to be nurturing and calm and the way she smiled showed him that, perhaps, she would like to be one someday.

“Do you want something to eat? They have sandwiches here,” John asked her.

“Oh no, that’s fine. I can get something when I’m done and eat it in my office,” she said as she looked up. “It’s not very often I get to play with babies. All my nieces and nephews are toddlers or older.”

“Would you like to babysit her occasionally?” Sherlock asked.

She looked at him, surprised. “You’d trust her with me?” she asked.

He nodded. “I trust you a great deal. I would trust you to take good care of her.”

“Well…yes, I wouldn’t mind doing it occasionally,” she said. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

“I should thank you,” he said, his smile widening. She smiled in return and then turned her attention back to Abigail for the remainder of her lunch. The more he watched the more he was glad that she was going to be an influence in his daughter’s life. Molly put her back in her car seat and said her good-byes, heading to the counter to buy a sandwich before leaving.

“You should take notes on her,” John remarked as he got back into his seat. “She’s a natural.”

“Yes, she seems to be,” he said, his gaze following her as she began to walk back to the hospital.

“So what was Lestrade’s warning about? She seemed in a good mood.”

“A misunderstanding,” he replied, not turning back to look at him until Molly was out of view. “It got cleared up.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod. “That’s good.”

“Yes, it is. I don’t like people who tolerate me to be mad at me,” he replied.

“She does more than tolerate you,” John pointed out. “But anyway, it’s time to go pay a visit to Lestrade. Are you actually taking Abigail in with you, or am I going to have to find another warm eatery to sit in?”

“Let’s bring her in,” he said. “If Molly knew about her then I suppose all of Scotland Yard must know by now, and seeing as how I don’t have a picture I might as well provide proof that she actually exists.”

John looked amused. “You should definitely carry her in.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Well a, because the car seat is heavy and I’m tired of carrying it, and b, doing that might cause Anderson to pass out from shock. You’ll get some peace and quiet while you talk to Lestrade.”

Sherlock thought about it for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll carry her in.” They gathered up their things and Sherlock picked up the car seat, and they went out to get a taxi. Once they were bundled in Sherlock gave the driver to address and they were off. It wasn’t that long of a trip and when they’d paid the driver they got out and made their way inside. Sherlock could feel everyone staring at him as he purposefully made his way to Lestrade’s office. The only person in their path was Donovan. “I need to speak to Lestrade,” he said.

She didn’t look at him, instead focusing on the baby. He could see she was not wearing her usual sour faced expression, instead wearing a slight smile. “He’s in his office,” she said. “May I?” she asked.

He nodded. “John can stay out here with you,” he said, setting the car seat down. He glanced at her bending down to pick Abigail up as he opened the door to Lestrade’s office.

Lestrade was on the phone, but hung up as soon as he saw who was coming in. “Learn anything from the body?”

“Nothing. Whatever it was that killed her was given to her orally, because there are no injection marks anywhere on the body. And it’s a subtle enough poison to kill quickly but not show up on toxicology reports. I’ll need to do more research.”

He sighed. “I’d hoped you’d find some kind of answer.” Suddenly a loud squeal could be heard from the other side of the door, and there was a sort of murmur that got louder. “What on earth is going on out there?”

“I brought my daughter with me,” Sherlock said. “Apparently infants have that effect on women.”

Lestrade raised an eyebrow. “You actually brought her here? Willingly?”

“John insisted on coming with me and Mrs. Hudson is not at home at the moment.”

He sighed. “I can already tell no work is going to get done today. The last time someone brought an infant here the women couldn’t stop talking about it for the next three hours.”

“My apologies,” he said.

“You might as well introduce me to her,” he said, standing up. “I’m curious to know just how your child would look.”

Sherlock nodded and opened the door. Donovan and John were in the center of a crowd, all oohing and ahhing over Abigail. Abigail apparently liked Donovan because she was not crying her head off, and she seemed to enjoy being the center of attention. Lestrade cleared his throat and the women looked up, and then quickly moved away from the baby and went back to where they were supposed to be. Donovan came up and handed her to Sherlock. “You have a very beautiful daughter,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied, taking his daughter from her. He turned to Lestrade, who looked at her. “Well?”

“She’s definitely got your hair,” he said. “And your eyes, or at least the shape of them. I know it took about three months before I could tell what color eyes my daughter had, so they may still change.”

“Do you want to hold her?” he asked.

Lestrade shook his head. “I don’t do well with infants. I’m surprised you’re not crazy from lack of sleep yet.”

“She’s sleeping longer now,” Sherlock replied. “Not much, but enough that I can get some sleep every night.”

“You’re a very lucky man,” he said. “I hope she doesn’t start teething or get colic. I don’t think I’d like to deal with you if either of those things happen. You won’t sleep a wink because _she_ won’t sleep a wink.”

“I’m not looking forward to either of those myself,” Sherlock admitted.

“Try your best not to bring her back here, all right? Or at the very least, bring her into the office.”

“I’ll remember that,” he said. He placed her gently into the car seat, then lifted it up. “I’ll call you when I have possibilities.” And with that, he and John left his office area.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Donovan smile before,” John said. “Looks much nicer on her face than the scowl she always seems to have on when she sees you.”

“I noticed that myself,” he said. “And I think her compliment about Abigail was sincere.”

“Anderson kept trying to get a look but the women all blocked his view,” he replied with a chuckle. “And I think one of the women slipped her phone number into my coat pocket to pass onto you.”

“I do not need any more women in my life,” he said with a sigh. “Mrs. Hudson and Molly are enough, especially with the occasional parcel from Irene.”

“Face it, Sherlock. You’re a single father of an adorable baby. Women are going to be throwing themselves at your feet,” John said with an amused grin. “You’re a chick magnet now.”

“That was a complication I did not need,” he said sourly.

“It’s going to be fun to watch,” he replied. They lapsed into silence as they exited the building, and John hailed them a cab. Sherlock got in first and secured Abigail, and then John slid in. “Where to?”

“Home,” he said. “I need to look up poisons.” He gave the driver the address and leaned back into his seat. “I detest undetectable poisons.”

“You’ll figure it out soon enough,” John said. “You always do.” They lapsed into silence until they got home, and Abigail began to get fussy. As soon as they were in the common room Sherlock put her in the bassinet and checked her. Seeing that she did not need to be changed, he went into the kitchen to make her a bottle. “You’re getting to be quite a natural,” he remarked as he watched Sherlock.

“It’s becoming more second nature,” he admitted, checking the bottle before giving it to her. She settled in and began to drink the bottle. “Most nights I get some sleep now because I’m able to get her back to sleep quickly.”

“That’s good news,” he said with a nod. “Pretty soon you won’t need all that much help. And then she’ll be a toddler and you’ll need it again.”

Sherlock ran his fingers through the slight curls on her head. His mother had been right; the paternal instincts were beginning to kick in. He didn’t tell John, but there were times he would stare at his daughter and wonder how one of the more twisted relationships in his life could have produced something so perfect. It was the first night that he had that thought that he truly thought of himself as her father. “I suppose so,” he said. Then he removed his hand. “Let’s get cracking on figuring out the poison. Molly told me what the contents in her stomach were, and I believe it was either ingested in the milk or the salad dressing.”

And with that, they settled into the research, only occasionally interrupted by a need on Abigail’s part. After three hours he had a short list of poisons that could work, and he called Lestrade with the details, and then called Molly and asked her to run two additional tests. She was thankfully still at work so he just needed to wait for the results. When she called him back and told him the results two hours later, he felt satisfaction. He thanked her and then called Lestrade again, interrupting his evening meal. When he was done he began to yawn. It was only seven, but he was already tired.

“I believe I am going to get some rest,” he said.

“Not going to eat supper?” John asked.

“She’s sleeping and I’m tired, and I’d like to try and get some rest while I can. I’ll have some later.”

“Okay. Good night, Sherlock.”

“Good night, John.” He picked his daughter up and took her to his room, putting her in the crib. Then he changed and lay down in his bed, drifting off to sleep quickly. He woke up when it was pitch black outside to the sound of her cries. He turned on the light and saw it was eleven now. He got up, and then carried her back to the bed and laid down again, putting her on his chest and rubbing her back until she calmed down. He had found she liked to listen to his heartbeat, and that it soothed her.

Soon enough her fussing stopped and she quieted down again. He lay there, rubbing her back until he was sure she was asleep, and then he picked her up again. This time, instead of taking her back to her crib, he pushed his blankets down and laid her next to him. Then he went to her crib and got the blanket her mother had set and put it over her. And then he turned off the light and went back to sleep. He could get used to this, he thought as he succumbed to sleep once again.


End file.
